


"Don't you trust me?"

by azure112



Series: BBS oneshots [5]
Category: Banana Bus Squad, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Among Us (Video Game) Setting, Alternate universe - Mafia, Conspiracy, Implied Relationships, Partners in Crime, kinda gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:07:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28522920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azure112/pseuds/azure112
Summary: The Skeld is overrun with the Mafia, and every ship they visit, things scarcely end well. It's dirty work, but Jonathan is willing to live by it, and simply do his job.Cartoonz, on the other hand, seems keen to change things.Based on the mechanics of the Mafia Mod in Among Us
Relationships: Jonathan | H2ODelirious/Luke Patterson
Series: BBS oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062383
Kudos: 21





	"Don't you trust me?"

Between heavy breaths and desperate gasps of air, all that could be heard were the telltale sound of combat, and the collision between a man and a weapon. The pleads for mercy had long gone silent, and a single gunshot finally rang in the air. No more sounds were heard afterwards, aside from a single, solemn "clean him up".

Reluctantly, he did, and the dead body was slowly dragged away, towards the nearest trash chute, never to be seen again.

This was life aboard the Skeld, a summary.

_____

Jonathan winced at the grip with which he was being held, almost getting dragged along as they traversed the empty halls. Their echoing footsteps were the only sounds that could suppress his own beating heart, the pressure quickly rising within him. This was dirty business, and he didn't quite approve of being taken to somewhere secluded and unknown by the very people who threatened his life.

It had been a normal day, he swore, as people went about their daily routines, and commuted at ease. The air had been light, and he had been talking to crewmates, almost prancing about with nonsense talk and playful banter. However, as he bypassed the Storage room of the ship, a voice had called him over, and only a second later, Jonathan had found himself being pulled away by another man.

As they trudged along together, the two sought solace in corners, examining every bend and avoiding all contact, as much as they could. The mafioso in front of him drove away a horde of peering eyes as they threatened to follow, and Jonathan could only cower behind him in fear, for what would happen next was completely in his hands.

Eventually, they entered a bigger room, and the soft sounds of whirring machinery filled the air, almost acting like white noise that filled the tension between them both. The reactor room was empty for now, and seemingly in working condition. The soft sounds gave Jon a feeling of comfort, but it didn't last for long. Only a second later, he found his body being slammed harshly against the wall, the mafioso's face only inches away from his own. He silently thanked the stars for his mask, because he had tensed up completely, partly out of anticipation, but mostly out of fear. The look on his face would have undoubtedly betrayed the calm he was trying so hard to build.

Jonathan knew that he was at the very, very bottom of the hierarchy. His life was worthless to these monsters, and he only served the sole purpose of cleaning after their messes. He knew that he was easily replaceable, and maybe that was why he was so afraid that he had done something wrong.

"Listen, Delirious. I need your help." Jonathan winced visibly at the name, his expression only shielded by his mask. As a precautionary measure, it was absolutely necessary to use code words when addressing one another, to protect their identities and avoid getting caught. While Jon wasn't familiar with most of the people aboard the ship, he at least knew who this was; his name was Luke, but he usually went by Cartoonz. This was the mafioso who reigned right above him. The only person that Jon could remotely trust.

"W-what's up? What do you need me for?" Save for the slightest stutter and the underlying fear, Jon tried his best to stand his ground. Luke seemed amused for a moment, perhaps a little bit intrigued by his subtle attempt to fight back, but his gaze regained its former sternness within an instant.

"I'm sick of working for the Godfather. That son of a bitch does nothing, and  _ we _ have to handle all the dirty work!" He exclaimed, before once again examining the room for any  _ listeners _ . Any people he wouldn't hesitate to shoot dead. "He treats me poorly- scratch that, he treats  _ us _ poorly! And I don't think he deserves the position he holds."

Jon simply nodded, trying his best to follow. There was a gleam in Luke's eyes that he couldn't quite recognise. A look that scared him ever so slightly. There was something about the way it was arched, curved ever so slightly by the hint of a smile that conveyed to Jonathan that he had an outlandish, yet exciting proposition in mind. One where someone was  _ going _ to die.

"You know what I say?" Luke started, his tone dark and conspiring. "I say that we overthrow the Godfather, and claim this clan for ourselves!" he beamed, his voice still and downright terrifying. It was quickly evident that his words were less of a suggestion, and more of an order. "We can call a meeting, get him voted off, and I can take his place!"

Jon paused, and tried to act like he was musing the idea. In reality, he had taken a gulp as he tried to figure out who's wrath he feared more; Cartoonz's, or the Godfather's. There was no easy answer, for both of them had a good deal of blood on their hands, and bodies in their wake. Ones that  _ he _ had been forced to clean up.

He knew what they were capable of.

And he didn't know what to do.

But the gun in Luke's hand gave him all the motivation he needed to make his decision.

Jon tried to step back, he tried to create some distance. However, the wall stood in the way, and he had nowhere to go. Luke smirked ever so slightly, and took an easy stride forward, clearly infringing on personal space. He loaded the glock, and the sound of the trigger rang loudly in the air. 

"What's the matter, Delirious? You seem to be struggling." Cold metal was forced against his chin, and Jon let it guide his gaze upwards, directly into Luke's singular eye. The other had been taken away, and he was suddenly made to remember why the two despised this place as much as they did. This single incident was the very foundation upon which their relationship had been built.

The nameless Godfather had done a good deal of damage, Jon knew. He had hurt Luke, and he had hurt him too. For as mellow and drunk as he usually played out to be, mostly harassing another crew member who went by the name of 'Acie', the Godfather was a monster, and a force to be reckoned with.

If anyone was to understand that fact, it would have been Jon. If anyone was willing to help him, it should have been Jon.

"You're going to get us both killed." He stated sternly, but with a tone that denoted a full sense of helplessness. He no longer had any ground to stand, and was only the pull of a trigger away from getting shot. "I know why you want to do this, but if we can't sway the judgement, we're both going to die! Do you- do you know the risk you're putting us through?"

"Is that not a risk you're willing to take?" Luke tilted his head in a curious manner, pressing the gun against his chin firmly. "Are you seriously alright with what he did to you?!"

It felt like something had snapped in the air. Maybe it was Jon, and maybe, just maybe, Luke could feel that hurt through through the mask, in the way his shoulders tensed, and his fists clenched deep, digging his nails into his palms. He never quite forgot the feeling of being pushed onto the ground, or the feeling of being beaten until he was but a pile of broken bones. There was a tension in the air, and the memory of a glass bottle being shattered against his skull before he fell, right by the dead bodies he had been tasked with cleaning up.

History was rich within these walls, and Jonathan gritted his teeth, slowly letting out a shaky, shallow breath.

"Well,  _ you _ clearly don't care because you're about to kill me!" he retorted, accusingly, and perhaps a little too  _ loudly _ . Anger had seeped right into his voice, and the moment he realised what he had done, he went right back to cowering against the wall, suddenly expecting the worst. Luke paused, a grim expression on his face, before slowly bringing the gun down. The fire in his expression was completely gone. Now, he almost looked a little bit hurt.

"You'd be dead right now if I really cared that little." Luke huffed, only getting closer. Jon clenched his fists as he slowed his breaths,  trying his best to stay in place. Despite his upturned face, he could still catch a glimpse of the gun as it lay rested almost comfortably around Luke's waist.

It reminded him, silently, that his life was still in the hands of another. There was very little motive for Luke to spare him now, and Jon acknowledged the morbid fact with a slight shiver down his spine.

Slowly, the Mafioso made his move, gently cupping Jon's face with one hand. And slowly, with a light, feathery touch, he brushed his cheek with a thumb, causing them to flare up completely. "Don't you trust me?" He questioned, and for a moment, all the fear seemed to dissipate, replaced by an entirely new emotion. There was a tenderness in his touch that Jonathan didn't know how to process, but the anxiety alone was driving him insane. He was apprehensive of his every word, his every move.

He had been aware, far too vaguely, of the steady gaze that often kept him company as he went about the day. Meetings were a frequent occurrence, and Jonathan knew that he was always seated beside Luke, their shoulders brushing against one another as they sat, even as the ship turned empty and the dead outweighed the living. There was something about the way he looked down at him that was almost enticing, something that he knew would be the death of him eventually.

There was barely any distance between them now, and Jonathan swore that his pulse could be heard, beating rapidly, like a rabbit's. Luke's gaze seemed to soften as he trailed a hand down slightly, getting a feel for the pace of his heartbeat. It was far too fast for his liking, and Jon could suddenly feel that guilt linger in the air.

"I see a possibility for a better life out there…" he murmured, and Jon could have missed it if he hadn't been listening so intently. "A life where I can tell you that you'll be safe, and it would have been the truth."

Part of the job was the protection that it garnered, and on paper, it seemed like it was worth it. It seemed, for the better part of the crew, that their needs were being met. When a hostage loses touch with reality, abuse becomes a norm, and pain was all that came with familiarity. Scars were a symbol of a life worth living. And it was the struggle that would keep them going.

"Safety, for us, will never be a guarantee…" Jonathan grimaced, an ache building in his chest. Luke's hand weighed down on it, and it grounded him ever so slightly. "But if there's somewhere you wanna go, I'll make sure to follow."

The mafioso stared directly into his eyes, and Jon could feel a flutter. With the slightest hints of a smile, Luke nodded his head, and slowly pulled away. He created distance between them, almost tenderly giving them space, and Jon was finally able to let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. Neither of them uttered a single word, but Luke turned and left, leaving Jon alone for a moment, letting him process everything that had just happened.

All of a sudden, there was a conspiracy in the air, and it was one that he was a part of. Jonathan was dubious of the logistics of the plan, but he had already given him his word, and he would pull through, no matter the result. For a moment, his hand lingered over his chest, over the spot that Luke had touched, almost studying the pace of his heart. It had slowed since then, and he walked past Electrical, trying to act like nothing had happened.

He didn't even get much farther before a meeting had been called. And when he had arrived at the table, he looked directly at Luke, at the mischievous gleam and the confident smirk, and knew immediately that hell was already on its way.


End file.
